by TP Keane
*
Aria had only left the wizard's tower for a moment, but already Ol?rin had lost track of her. Leaving Mullrode tied up, Ol?rin ran through the long narrow corridors as fast as his wiry body would allow him. The palace was large, and he had no idea where to begin his search. His creaking bones protested at having to move at such an unnatural pace for a two hundred and ninety-eight year old man, but he kept running despite their complaints. He had no choice. It was, after all, his fault that the young prince was in danger. Had he just kept a better eye on Aramus while they travelled, or gone after him when he ran away at the age of fifteen, or left him to die the night he was attacked by those men, then perhaps none of this would have happened?
The guilt burdened his heart more than the exhaustion, and Ol?rin could feel his fingers and toes go cold. His head grew dizzy and his vision blurred until the world around him spun. The weight in his chest sank deeply into his stomach, and Ol?rin only just managed to stop running before he fell and heard the clatter of his staff hit the stone floor. 'Not now.'
The silvery outline of the palace corridor dissolved into darkness and from within it, Ol?rin heard the voice of a young man fire out orders. The clashing swords sharpened his senses, and when the vision came into focus, he was confronted with the image of a burnt landscape. Again the cries of war came to his ears, but he could not find the owner of the commanding voice. Long silvery hair from hundreds of elves glided either side of him in a ghostly motion, their arrows zipping past his head. From high above him Ol?rin saw the silhouette of a golden dragon gleam against the night sky - the fires below bathing its shining body in a dangerous ochre hue.
Something huge rumbled the scorched ground underfoot. It was deeper and more numerous than the dwarf's Beasties or the horned monsters of Dantet. Beyond the peaks of a blackened mountain's to the east, Ol?rin spied the enormous heads of giants sway, unhurriedly, from side to side as they made their way toward him. From so far away it was impossible to tell if their swinging weapons were meeting with friend or foe.
Many things happened in his vision, and countless faces passed by Ol?rin, some of them recognisable, but all of them terrified. This was a vision unlike any other. Whereas before he only saw the outline of what was to come, an echo of things to happen, now it was as if he was there. He could smell the burning flesh of creatures, hear their shrieks of anguish, and taste the bitterness of fear in his mouth. His vision told him that a great war was coming, far beyond anything they had seen before, and from the looks of it, Dantet appeared to be winning.
It was then the colossal, winged frame of the dark God materialised through the smoke-ladened vista. His black, horned body loomed over the unseen warriors beneath the smog and towered over the distant giants. His fiery slatted eyes, as large as two moons, burned through ashen clouds and finally rested upon Ol?rin. Something pounded in Ol?rin's hand. When he looked down he saw a black, glassy stone pulsating as though it were a heart. His fingers and palm were blackened and fused to the bizarre gem. Dantet's roar shook the heavens themselves, and Ol?rin knew that this stone was what Dantet wanted.
Just as he felt the coldness of death's touch reach out to him, Dantet's face changed. Where his eyes were once fearsome and fiery, now they shone, pupil-less and silvery. His snarl turned into a smile framed by azure lips and was surrounded by a brilliantly white complexion. Silver hair tumbled from the gargantuan horns on his head, spreading out through the land until it enveloped both Dantet and the darkness.
Ol?rin gazed into the face of the Goddess Edwina and wondered if he was being shown the moment he was to join her in the hereafter. The Goddess shook her head as if to say "no" and furrowed her silver eyebrows. Ol?rin was suddenly filled with a sorrow so great he thought it might crush him. Edwina's eyes bore the anguish of a mother saying goodbye to her child for the last time. Her blue lips parted and Ol?rin waited expectantly for the voice that he had so longed to hear. But the sound that came from her mouth was not that of a woman.
"Help me," it said. "Wake up."
The voice was that of a young child he didn't recognise. With some confusion Ol?rin found himself drawn to the desperation he heard in the child's loud sobs. He felt the dizziness return, the hardness of the stone floor beneath him, and the throbbing of his head, pull him reluctantly from the image of Edwina.
"Wake up," the child's voice pleaded.
Ol?rin opened his eyes and the world around him spun. Small hands grabbed at his robes and shook him urgently. When his eyes managed to focus again, and the clashing of swords was the only thing left ringing in his ears, he was met by the sight of a young boy with the same red hair as Aria. His brown eyes were bloodshot, and tears tumbled freely down his blotchy, terrified face as he shook Ol?rin again. The child in question looked so much like Aria that there could be no doubt that he was her brother.
"Wake up, wake up, wake up," he cried, grief and terror convulsing his lungs so he could only speak in hiccups.
"Pearan," Ol?rin said, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head. "What has happened?"
"Aria, Aria, please help her," he sobbed.
Ol?rin snapped back to reality, ignoring the pain in his head, and stared into the young boys terrified eyes.
"Where is she?"
"Th? throne room," he hiccupped before clasping his small face in his hands and sobbing so hard that Ol?rin knew he would not speak again.
"Pearan, listen to me. It is very important that you hear me," Ol?rin said grasping the young boy's hands away from his face. "I'm sure you know all of the secret passages in this palace, am I right?"
Pearan nodded, still gasping for air through his grief.
"You must get out of here, out of Lothangard, and hide. Do not tell anyone your name, never stay in one place too long, do you hear?" Again the young boy nodded. "I will come find you when it is safer. But if I should not come, if I should not survive, then you must keep yourself hidden from all and make a new life for yourself. Go now."
Pearan stood up and disappeared through the corridor, tripping over his own feet as he left. Ol?rin waited until he was out of sight before picking his staff up and, on unsteady legs, taking a short-cut through the central courtyard to get to the throne room. Once outside, the same burning smell he had had in his vision reached his nose, making it feel as though it had been instantly blackened with soot. He turned his eyes to the sky and his breath left his body in a moment of absolute terror.
Soaring above his head was the golden dragon he had seen in his vision, majestic, terrifying, and watching. Ol?rin quickened his pace, sure that at any moment he would see the figure of Dantet loom above the castle walls too. His legs wobbled and his chest ached from the effort. Thankfully no such figure appeared. But upon Ol?rin's arrival in the marble hall, he found an image more distressing than the face of Dantet could have ever been.
Aramus stood at the top of the hill of marble steps, his wings smouldering and his eyes ablaze. In his hand he swirled a small phial containing a dark liquid, which almost seemed to suck the light from every oil lamp in the room. Lying on the ground at his feet, a waterfall of red, curly hair cascaded down the marble steps, continued on by a river of bright red blood. Aria's face was a horrific shade of grey and the edges of her lips had turned blue. Any life or lustre that had once been in her eyes was lost now as they emptily stared at Ol?rin.
"Aria!" Ol?rin gasped, rushing to her side.
Her skin was cold to the touch and her distant eyes remained motionless. He was too late. His innards ran cold and the distant rumblings of war outside the palace became muted. As he knelt by her side, Ol?rin had to lean on his staff for support, for fear he would collapse.
He had failed.
"What have you done?"
"What needed to be done," Aramus replied.
His voice was indifferent, deeper, as he continued to scrutinise and swirl the phial in his hands. Only taking a momentary glance toward Ol?rin and the dead body of the young queen, Aramus shru
gged his shoulders as if all he had done was accidently trample someone's prized flowerbed. Ol?rin felt an anger begin to surge in his stomach. He leaned over Aria's body and closed her eyes before standing to face Aramus.
"How, how could you kill her? She was on your side. She defended you when all others doubted," he roared.
"Why wouldn't I kill her?" he replied. "The blood from her heart was my final ingredient. It's not as if she actually cared for me, old man, she told me that herself. The only thing she wanted to do, was protect was her scrawny little brother."
"You? you?" Ol?rin was lost for words.
Ol?rin breathed deeply, trying without success to calm himself. He was at the point of no return and he knew it. Aramus stood, Dantet's potion in his hand, and the glint of the Amulet of Tenebris around his neck, beneath the gold chain of the elves. It seemed that Aramus had not understood Aria in the same way that she had understood him, and his chain had not broken.
"Why couldn't you have just waited until the potion was ready?" Ol?rin asked quietly, already knowing the answer.
"And what? become the pet of another God?" Aramus scoffed. "You have no idea what it's like, old man, to have one whispering in my ear, telling me I am nothing more than a vessel for his power, while the other despises me more than anyone who has ever clapped eyes on me. Is that to be my destiny then? Am I to die alone, or to live despised for an eternity, never fitting in, never having anyone truly love me? And because of what crime, because I was born?"
Amidst the anger that surged an energy through his old body, Ol?rin came to realise what was truly happening before him. They were puppets, all of them. Pawns that were being pushed around a board between the warring parents who presided over them: An eye for an eye. He remembered the vision granted to him before Pearan found him and knew that Edwina was saying goodbye. She knew what was to happen and did nothing to stop it. Ol?rin felt a warm tear trickle down his face as he realised that Edwina had been just as guilty of manipulating him, as Dantet was of manipulating Aramus. He felt cheated, betrayed, and angry.
"I think that I will make my own destiny," Aramus continued. "With my father's potion I will be too powerful for anyone to ever oppose me. It is my turn to govern the condemnatory people of Naretia, and they will bow down to me, or burn for their defiance."
Ol?rin was almost inclined to agree with the young man then, save for the fact that many innocent lives would be lost if he did. His faith in his visions, in his Goddess, diminished within him. He vowed, then and there, that after this day he would no longer partake in the war between Dantet and Edwina. Should he survive, Ol?rin thought it better Pearan remained hidden and find a new life of his own, away from the self-fulfilling prophecies his head had been filled with. But Ol?rin would do this one last thing, not for Edwina, but for the people of Naretia.
"You stupid fool," Ol?rin said, raising his staff and pointing it at Aramus's chest. "Even if you succeed you will never know true happiness, not without the potion I have created. You will be forever lost in the idea of acceptance, the illusion of adoration. But the hole in your heart will never be filled, just as it will never be filled in your father." Ol?rin steadied himself and felt the power of his staff surge through his arm. "I ask you, please Aramus, do not drink that potion. Wait until Sudia comes. I do not wish to kill you."
Aramus turned to Ol?rin and glared at him. Without warning, his wings flared in a crimson blaze and that same powerful wickedness Ol?rin had witnessed in Darzithal, flashed across his face.
"You will not kill me, old man," Aramus seethed. "You cannot."
"We are all capable of murder," Ol?rin said, feeling an odd calmness wash over him. "My vows do not prevent me from killing you. While my brethren would suffer the ultimate sacrifice for my actions, it does not mean that I cannot. I am just as capable of becoming what the world regards as evil. It is only by my actions, my choices, that I stay on the path of light. But all that can change. So I say it to you again, Aramus. Please do not drink that potion because I do not want to kill you."
Aramus laughed loudly, his harsh voice echoing off the empty walls of the room. Outside Ol?rin heard the shouts of warring men in the corridors coming closer, and panic started to rise in his chest. Dantet's army had breached the palace walls and would be on top of them at any moment. But Aramus seemed unperturbed by the sound.
"I don't mean your vows," he guffawed. "I'm talking of your love for me. I am the only family that you have ever known, and your soft heart will not allow you to harm me."
A weight burdened Ol?rin's chest as he came to another realisation.
"As evident by the war between Dantet and Edwina, even the most loving parents must sometimes sacrifice their children for the greater good," Ol?rin replied, taking a step closer to Aramus.
It was then Ol?rin saw doubt in the young man's eyes, like he considered Ol?rin a viable threat for the first time ever. With a flick of his thumb, Aramus uncorked the phial and raised it to his mouth.
"Aramus, NO!"
As soon as the glass rim touched the young man's lips, Ol?rin released the energy from his staff. He watched, almost as if in slow motion, as the blindingly white electricity crackled at the burl and shot out, hitting Aramus in his chest. No sooner had the phial, and Aramus, been blown backward, then Ol?rin's staff shattered into a thousand pieces. It exploded with such force that he was blown half-way across the throne room too.
Ol?rin wasn't sure if it was the ringing in his ears muting all noise, but outside everything became strangely silent as he lay gasping on the cold floor. Weakness began to invade his old body, the likes of which he had never felt before. It sapped at the very essence of his being and he suspected that those who did not follow Dantet, were also feeling it. Death was peaceful, but it was slow.
Ol?rin lifted his head to see that the job he had been sent to do, was done. Aramus had fallen into the golden throne, his chest opened and black blood oozed down his trousers, pooling at his feet. His tanned face was as grey as the young queen's below him, and the fire of Dantet had left his eyes. He was still breathing, but only just.
"Ol?rin, Ol?rin, are you okay?"
Sudia's voice was a welcomed sound. It filled Ol?rin with comfort to know he would not die alone. But it didn't change the fact that he would die as soon as Aramus's heart beat for the last time.
"There were ogres and trolls in the palace, I couldn't get through any faster," she said, picking him up by his shoulders and helping him to sit. "It was the strangest thing, they just suddenly stopped fighting and stood in their place, like they had become statues. I chopped off a few heads along the way, but it wasn't as satisfying as I thought it would be. Here, the potion is ready."
Clutched in the hand held close to her injured shoulder, she held a phial which was now split into two distinct colours. While one side bore an unmistakable resemblance to Aramus's potion, the other shone more brightly than his staff ever could.
"It's too late," Ol?rin replied, turning away from her and pointing to Aramus. "I had no choice." Sudia let out a gasp when her eyes found where he was pointing.
"But that means you will die too," she said, turning to Ol?rin again, her one black eye and one silver eye both looking at him wildly. "No, I will not have it. You promised to find me a cure. Maybe if you drink the potion it will protect you, protect your soul and keep you alive?"
Ol?rin considered the notion and a sudden surge of hope swept over him. He took off his hat and rummaged through the contents, only barely able to keep himself upright as his energy continued to wane. From within its depths he retrieved the glistening Geminum. Turning the hourglass gem over in his hand he knew that it was possible to save himself by syphoning out the stain of darkness that the murder had left on his soul. But the idea of living on while the rest of his caste perished was too much to bear.
"Give it to me," he said, taking the phial from Sudia's hand. "Help me to him."
"To him!" Sudia gawped. "Have you lost your mind?"<
br />
"For the last time, my mind is perfectly sane. Now help me. If I can complete the task, then perhaps his soul might be spared after all. He will not suffer at his father's hands, and Dantet will be unable to rise."
With a few expletives muttered under her breath, she helped Ol?rin over to Aramus. The young man was still breathing in spits and spurts, and his terrified amber eyes focused on Ol?rin as he leaned against the throne next to him. The old wizard couldn't bear to look into them, so instead he uncorked the phial and focused on tipping its contents into the young man's mouth. He spluttered and choked, but he swallowed it.
Holding the Geminum over the gaping hole in his chest, Ol?rin began to chant. Slowly a dark mist rose out of Aramus and found its way into the darker side of the Gemium. When there was no more darkness to capture, Ol?rin felt his knees go weak and had to grip onto the throne to keep himself upright. He continued to chant despite the fact that he knew the spell was completed. All the while Aramus's ragged breathing became worse.
"Ol?rin?"
The voice was choked, soggy, pleading. Ol?rin went quiet and Aramus gripped onto his robes as he stared, wide-eyed, around the room as if he were seeing it for the first time. His gaze rested on Aria's dead body before finding Ol?rin's face again.
"What have I done?" he whispered weakly. "I'm sorry."
These were the last words that Aramus spoke before his eyes glazed over and his ragged breathing became still. Ol?rin felt the Geminum slip from his hand and heard it shatter on the marble steps. He ignored Sudia's cries of despair as it did. She abandoned him to gather the fragments of black and white glass at their feet. Ol?rin didn't care. He waited for his own death to come, for the time of the end to his soul and his being.
With his free hand he traced his fingers over the young man's amber eyes to close them. Then he lowered his head onto Aramus's shoulder and wept. That was the way things remained for a long time, the silence of the marble hall only broken by Ol?rin's mournful sobs and the tinkle of glass shards falling between Sudia's fingers. Ol?rin waited for the weakness to worsen, the pain of grief his chest to disappear, and the nothingness to envelope him. He waited, sobbing harder than he had ever sobbed before.
"Whot has happened?"
Bernard's voice rang too loudly in what had become a marble crypt.
"Why are you here, dwarf? Why are you not fighting outside?" Sudia snapped, her voice heavy with sorrow and despair.
"They've gone," he replied, the dwarf's voice quietening to a whisper. "The dark army has up and left, just gone, like a dog that has been recalled by its master. We won!"
Silence followed Bernard's statement. Ol?rin didn't care to ask the questions he might have before Aramus's death. It seemed too that Bernard needed no explanation for the horrific scene before him, and for that Ol?rin was grateful.
"Help me with him," Sudia said in an uncharacteristically soft voice.
Ol?rin heard Bernard's iron clad footfalls make their way to the throne. As though he his skin had turned to stone, he only barely felt the dwarf's rough hands hoist his old legs off the floor, while Sudia took him under his arms. Together they carried Ol?rin, weak with grief and magicless, toward the large wooden doors at the end of the palace. Ol?rin couldn't take his eyes off the scene they left behind and thought the image would stay with him for an eternity - the queen of Naretia slain at the foot of her throne, and her killer, the man he had come to think of as a son, dead in her golden chair by his hand. Both of them surrounded by the glittering fragments of the Geminum and his shattered staff.
"What happens now?" Bernard asked Sudia.
"Nothing," Ol?rin whispered. "I will not let fate, or the Gods, control me like this anymore. Pearan will find his own path, and Edwina and Dantet can fight their own war."
"But what will happen to Naretia?" Sudia asked.
"That is not my concern," Ol?rin wheezed, feeling his chest collapse. "But it seems that you are the only king left in Naretia, Bernard."
Bernard and Sudia glanced at each other, but remained silent as they carried Ol?rin out of the throne room. Although he saw the blood-stained corridors, the bodies strewn about the courtyard, and heard the cries of anguish from mutilated soldiers as they died, his mind was stuck on the last memories he had of his son.
He willed his heart to stop as he was carried up the spiral stairs to the wizard's tower, and past the empty chair that had once held Mullrode. But his heart refused to obey. It carried on beating while the rest of the wizard caste fell to their knees, while the magic of Naretia perished, and the kingdom came to know a new and frightening era.
A note from the author
Although it isn't customary, I wanted to take this opportunity to thank you, the reader, for deciding to pick up my book. I hope, in earnest, that you have enjoyed my novel and will look for the next instalment of the Naretia series. To keep abreast of the announcements, you can subscribe to my website or keep an eye on my social media sites listed below. I look forward to connecting with you all.
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